


Consequences

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Master and Apprentice-Claudia Gray
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Interrupted Sex, M/M, Master and Apprentice AU, No spoilers for Master and Apprentice, Obi-Wan is an adult in my story, Qui-gon is clueless
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 09:45:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18568852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Qui-Gon Jinn is conflicted. He has been offered a seat on the Jedi Council, but if he accepts, it will mean severing his ties with his apprentice of six years, Obi-Wan. Despite their tumultuous partnership, he is not sure what to do, and while on a mission to Pijal, seeks out the advice of his old friend and Dooku's first Padawan, Rael Averross.When he goes to Rael's quarters, he is shocked at what he finds there.An AU of a scene in Claudia Gray's "Master and Apprentice" (no spoilers).





	Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU of a specific scene in Master and Apprentice. It doesn't have spoilers if you've read the synopsis of the book. Also, I have bumped Obi-Wan's age up to 19, for reasons that will be immediately obvious.
> 
> As always, thank you to my wonder-beta and dear friend, antheiasilva, for their enthusiasm and discerning eye.

————

Qui-Gon Jinn was not accustomed to seeking out advice. Usually, the Jedi Master relied on the Force, and his own instincts, to guide him. His methods had taken Qui-Gon far enough—-all the way to a seat on the Jedi Council, _if_ he accepted. The offer hovered in the back of his mind, even as he tried to focus on the Pijal mission. He had never expected to be considered for the Council; after all, his reputation was that of a maverick, a rule breaker who more than once flouted the words of the Council itself. 

And, if he was being honest, he was not the ambitious kind. At least, his ambitions did not lean in _that_ direction. Other Jedi aspired to the highest position in the Order, but the thought of enforcing a Code he didn’t always believe in made him feel...conflicted. Itchy, beneath his skin. 

He had tried to meditate, sitting in the cool night air on the balcony of his private quarters, but he was too restless. 

It was late, and the palace was mostly asleep, nestled in its mountainous cradle. As Qui-Gon walked the dim halls, he saw only the occasional servant or cleaning droid. But from what he remembered of Rael Averross, the man kept late hours. Qui-Gon smiled a little to himself. Being reunited with his old friend after all these years was a welcome surprise amid the turbulence of the Council invitation, and the deeper strain it had caused to his relationship with his Padawan. Rael reminded him of simpler times, when he was an apprentice, and so much of the intricacies of life still a mystery to be unfurled. He carried those fond memories with him, but it was not until he saw Rael, in his mussed and unapologetically eccentric glory, that Qui-Gon realized just how much he missed Dooku’s first Padawan, missed his spirit of freedom and frankness. 

Which was not a jab against Obi-Wan. Or, he did not _mean_ it to be. His apprentice was consummately obedient, to Qui-Gon, the Council and the Code. For Obi-Wan, the Universe was composed of black and white. It was a difficult, often impossible, task to get the boy to see shades of grey, let alone color. Theirs was never an easy or natural partnership. Sometimes he marveled at the fact that they had both grown up on the same planet, in the same Temple. 

Yet, the idea of reassigning Obi-Wan, after six years, to another Master made Qui-Gon feel like all the air had been sucked out of the room. He didn’t want Obi-Wan out of his life. He merely wanted him to…

What? Be someone other than himself? Mold him into another version of Qui-Gon?

He was going around in mental circles. The Council, his Padawan, the future. He could scarcely focus on the intrigue here in the palace when his heart was pulled in a thousand directions. 

Decades ago, Rael Averross had been the sounding board Qui-Gon needed: honest, unafraid, unique. And although the older Master seemed rather...comfortable in his near-decade as Pijal’s regent, he remained rough around the edges, the same incurable rogue that in his childhood Qui-Gon adored and longed to emulate. 

He rounded the corner to the ornate entrance of Rael’s private rooms. Qui-Gon paused, releasing a breath he had not realized he was holding. Finally, he would get an impartial perspective. Then maybe he could do right by his Padawan.

Carefully optimistic, Qui-Gon swept through the carved doors. He was hit by the aroma of incense and food; he noticed half-empty plates and glasses on a small table. The furniture looked like it had been expensive, but in typical Rael fashion, left to fade, the wood scratched and fabric pilled. Piles of clothes and datapads were everywhere. Qui-Gon avoided stepping on a polished boot, discarded on the floor, as he moved further into the room. “Rael?” He called, just before he came upon the man’s sleeping area. There he saw Rael’s unmistakably broad, hairy shoulders leaning forward, a pair of pale legs spread on either side of him, as the man thrusted and…

_Well._

Qui-Gon refused to be driven away by such a flagrantly inappropriate scene. He stood with his arms crossed, and cleared his throat. “Rael?” He tried again.

This time he felt a flurry of surprise in the Force. Rael barked an alien curse, gathering a threadbare blanket around his exposed backside. He muttered something to his bedmate, who remained sunk between the headboard and the man, no doubt in a mixture of embarrassment and modesty. 

“Force, Jinn. Ever heard of knocking?” Rael groused.

Qui-Gon suppressed a smirk. “About as often as you’ve heard of Jedi chastity.”

“Hah hah. Well maybe you could give a man the chance to get himself together—“

“Of course,” Qui-Gon conceded, if only on behalf of Rael’s no doubt bewildered lover. “I will wait in the sitting area until you are...decent.”

Rael huffed. Sweat gleamed on his skin. Qui-Gon could not help but notice red crescent-shaped marks among his shoulder blades. Apparently Rael Averross enjoyed _all_ of the luxuries available to him as regent. “If you’re gonna wait for me to get decent you’ll be waiting a lifetime. Sorry, kid.”

Qui-Gon was about to remark on how many decades had passed since he was last referred to as a ‘kid’ when suddenly, he understood. Rael stood from the mess of sheets, revealing the flushed face of his lover.

He sucked in a sharp breath. He blinked. And then blinked again, waiting for his eyes to right themselves. 

“OBI-WAN?” Qui-Gon thundered. He could hear his heart slap down into his stomach. 

The younger Jedi looked as unkempt as the rest of Rael’s rooms, hair sticking up, braid ratted and strewn across a pillow. He was obviously naked under the thin sheet, but he kept his chin up, grey eyes meeting his Master’s. 

Rael’s focus darted between Master and apprentice. “Hey, ya know, Qui-Gon, things happen—-“

Qui-Gon forced his gaze to remain on Rael’s face, and not the exposed chest, the strong legs. Already his mind was stuck on the image of the man’s naked body, deep in the throes of sex with—-with—-“I am aware,” he managed between grit teeth. “And some things, when they _happen_ , earn consequences.” Now he looked to Obi-Wan, who seemed frozen in the bed. “ _You_ will immediately return to our quarters and wait for me there.”

Obi-Wan stood up. Qui-Gon noticed the wet stains on the sheets, and he practiced simple calming techniques, breathing slowly, curling his fingers in and out of fists. He did not want to watch his apprentice struggle into his leggings, every bit of his exposed skin now burning red, but he was still Obi-Wan’s teacher, and he could not look the other way. Obi-Wan needed to feel the shame of his actions. He needed this regrettable moment emblazoned in his memory. 

_Force_. Qui-Gon ran a hand over his face. 

They had more than their share of problems, but in this, Qui-Gon had always assumed an accord with Obi-Wan. In fact, he wasn’t sure they had ever discussed this topic. Obi-Wan was such an earnest young man, content with his studies and training. He was not...not the kind to end up in bed with someone he’d only just met...someone far older...so much more experienced…

Someone who should have known better. 

Qui-Gon’s eyes narrowed in Rael’s direction, but the man was sitting on the edge of the bed now, back to the other Master, reaching for a glass of wine. Sufficiently covered, Obi-Wan walked past Qui-Gon, who grabbed him lightly by the elbow. “Please shower when you return to our quarters, Padawan,” he murmured, smelling more than the spice of incense. 

“Yes, Master,” came the quiet, dutiful reply, and Obi-Wan, head bowed, hurried out of the room.

Qui-Gon waited until he heard the main doors seal before he stalked over to Rael. He stopped in front of the older Master, his dear if long-estranged friend, and dropped his hands to his hips. “What were you thinking?!”

Rael finished off the glass with one long swallow, and belched. It was difficult not to stare at the planes of his hairy, mature body. “Come on, Qui-Gon. The scandalized virgin act doesn’t work so well on you.” Rael was not outranked, and he knew it, nor could he be cowed as Obi-Wan had been. “I was thinkin what most men would be thinkin. He knocked on my door--yeah, imagine that, he _knocked_ \--and like they say, one thing led to another…”

Qui-Gon released the surge of rage before it could consume him. There was no safe place to rest his eyes. Everywhere he looked, he saw symbols of his Padawan’s shed innocence. “He is nineteen years old!” He finally barked, feeling helpless. 

Rael’s lip curled. He scratched at his bare chest. “Yeah, and he felt like it too. Oh, don’t look at me that way. First off, I’m about as scared of you as I am a stray tooka. Second, he’s nineteen, which makes him an adult just about everywhere. I seem to remember by nineteen, you had--”

“That was different.” Qui-Gon snapped. 

“Course it was,” Rael muttered, tying the blanket around his solid middle and standing. “It was different cuz it was _you_.”

The words rankled, but Qui-Gon would not give Rael the satisfaction of noticing that. “In my case, there was significant...emotion involved. Certainly you cannot claim the same excuse.”

“I didn’t know I needed an excuse to have a little fun.” Rael crossed to a table, covered in various liquors. His blunt fingers ghosted over the bottles, ranging from rare blends to the kind of swill that could knock a man off his feet with a few sips. 

“I didn’t know my Padawan could be dismissed as the source of a little fun. He is an apprentice of our Order, and as a Master--”

“I have certain obligations, blah blah. I know. But I’m not _his_ Master, and I thought you were the one who was dismissing him, anyway?”

Pain twisted in Qui-Gon’s chest. He caught sight of that boot on the floor again, and realized it was Obi-Wan’s. Of course, a buffed, clean boot was totally out of place in this royal room turned hovel. He inhaled, exhaled, then bent over and gathered Obi-Wan’s boots, his robe. It took all his restraint not to think of how Rael had likely removed those items from his Padawan’s body, how this gruff and bedraggled man had seduced proper, naive Obi-Wan. “You are needling me to distract from your indiscretion. But this is not about me---”

“Sure it ain’t,” Rael chuckled, pouring clear liquid into two smudged chalices. He motioned to Qui-Gon with one of the drinks, shrugged when he was rebuffed, and drained them both. “This is _your_ Padawan. I sullied something that belongs to you. Well, at least until you get back to Coruscant and kick ‘im to the curb. That kid is about the most serious Padawan I’ve come across. At least he got to be happy once. Well….twice.”

The relaxed, _satisfied_ drawl reminded Qui-Gon that his lightsaber hung on his belt. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten reality, what with spending nearly a decade here, so far away from the Temple, from Jedi life. A Padawan is not a...a… _plaything_ , Rael.”

Rael hunkered in the chair beside the table, an elbow propped on his knee. “You don’t have to explain Padawans to me. I’ve been down darker roads than you, brother. I’ve seen...well, it’s in the past, and I try every damn day to leave it there. But you,” he shook his head, “You got something good and it’s still not good enough for you. You’re just like Dooku, y’know that? Searching for _more_. He searched until he walked himself right out of the Order. If I had one more kriffin _second_ with Nim...you better believe I wouldn’t be trying to pawn her off so I could stroke my own ego.”

Qui-Gon’s jaw tightened. “I’ll remind you I haven’t accepted the Council’s offer, precisely because of my pledge to Obi-Wan.”

“That’s probably news to him, from the way he was talkin.”

Qui-Gon paused, taken aback. Obi-Wan had barely spoken of the issue with the Council and his possible reassignment, besides his initial outburst in the Padawan salles, and a few casual comments since their arrival on Pijal. He was incensed that Rael was audience to Obi-Wan’s thoughts, when Qui-Gon was here, in the same palace. _I am his Master. What could he say to a veritable stranger that he could not say to me? This. This is why we are wrong together._ “He is very young. We haven’t had a chance to really discuss what is on the horizon. I’m not sure what I want.” He threaded his arms in his wide sleeves. He was loathe to think of himself as a man attracted to power, but why else would he choose a Council seat over his apprentice? 

_I did not choose Obi-Wan. He was given to me. Yoda was wrong to force our partnership._

_I want to see change in the Order. As a member of the Council, I could do that. What more can I do for Obi-Wan? He cannot come to me with his thoughts. He would rather…_

He swallowed hard. “I grieve for your loss, Rael. I cannot imagine enduring that pain.” And he couldn’t. Even with their struggles, their mounting discord, Qui-Gon would die for Obi-Wan, without a moment’s hesitation. “That tragedy does not insulate you from criticism. And our history does not give you the right to speak to me as if I am still that green Padawan at our Master’s knee. Reassigning Obi-Wan would not be the act of a cold or unfeeling teacher. It may not make sense to you, but I want what’s best for him.” 

“Oh ya do, huh? Yeah, I know when I was his age I woulda loved starting over with a brand new Master. That wouldn’t‘ve made me feel like bantha shit or anything.” Rael chewed on some kind of meat stick, lips wet. 

Qui-Gon coughed. “Just stay away from him, Rael. Out of respect for old friendship. He is confused enough without—“

Rael got to his feet and wiped his greasy hands on the knotted blanket around his waist. “Force alive, Qui-Gon, give the kid some credit. He got laid. It isn’t the end of the Universe.”

Of course it wasn’t. Of course Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan was a young man whose body would eventually be presented with temptations. He just thought Obi-Wan would resist those base desires, or would wait until he felt a connection to his partner. 

Like Qui-Gon had, on Felucia, but then, he supposed he never mentioned any of that to his Padawan. It seemed like a subject that could wait. 

But now, there wasn’t time. 

“He deserved better than to be used, Rael. He believes in the Code, to his core. He is going to feel terribly about what he’s done.”

Rael stretched, and his back popped loudly. The man wandered back to the bed, stretched out on the used sheets, and folded his arms under his head. His dark hair clung to his temples, still damp from exertion. “More like you’re gonna _make_ him feel terrible. Believe what ya need to, but he seemed like he felt pretty good to me. Real smart. He’s funny, too.”

Qui-Gon shifted. “I don’t need _you_ to sell me on the merits of my own Padawan.”

Rael cocked a thick eyebrow. “Like I said, believe what ya need to, brother. Now if ya don’t mind, I’m exhausted.”

Qui-Gon could feel his face twitch, knowing the source of those rumpled sheets and languid weariness. He looked at the tableau before him, and was aware of a piece of his youth wilting and falling away. He had worshipped Rael Averross, a Jedi who never forfeited his beliefs, who waved off tradition and forged his own, unorthodox path. Tonight, he looked at the same man, and saw a self-indulgent regent, Jedi by name only, who, out of fleeting pleasure, had taken a Padawan’s innocence. 

For once, Qui-Gon was glad of Dooku’s absence. How ashamed the man would be of both his apprentices. Obi-Wan’s belongings in tow, he turned from Rael, and started the long walk back to his quarters. 

————


End file.
